


so keep your hands steady, we'll make our getaway

by wafflesofdoom



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-21 04:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15549657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: so heres the thing - aaron knewexactlywhat he was getting in to, when he married robert sugden. you kind of had to marry a criminal mastermind with your eyes wide open, if you asked him.





	1. o n e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the thing was, aaron had known exactly what he'd gotten into when he married robert sugden, gang boss. he just hadn't really been prepared for his husband to fake his own death.

So here's the thing - Aaron knew exactly what he was getting in to, when he married Robert Sugden. He didn’t mean in that in an oh, Robert had a bad habit of leaving his underwear on the bathroom floor, or oh, Robert wasn’t so good with saving money (though, if he was being honest, both of those things were entirely true.)

No, Aaron meant it in a, oh, Robert is a criminal mastermind and is a gang boss, kind of way. He’d never been bothered by it, really - Robert was clever and sexy, and smarmy in ways that Aaron shouldn’t have liked so much, and all of that came before the whole criminal thing.

Aaron was a Dingle, after all - a little bit of illegality was hardly going to put him off. He’d never minded it, really - Aaron didn’t exactly have a golden moral compass, and he liked the life he had with Robert.

Aaron had caught Robert’s eye, all those years ago, at a newly opened bar in Leeds. He’d been fresh off a break-up with Ed, a shitty day in work, and all Aaron had wanted to do was get bladdered drunk and forget that his life, was his life.

And then Robert arrived, dressed in a striking maroon suit and flanked by two burly looking lads, walking in as if he owned the place. He did, own the place, Aaron learned at a later stage, in the private back-room of the bar, Robert’s hands down his trousers and his lips on Aaron’s neck.

He owned three bars, in actual fact. One of them legitimate, a backup in case it all went belly up one day, and two of them fronts for Robert’s criminal empire. Robert, he’d made sure the legitimate one was completely above board - he’d even gone as far as putting it in Aaron’s name after they got married, Robert’s refusal to let Aaron get involved in his business the cause of more than one argument.

Aaron had wanted to help, and Robert had wanted him away from the business.

And now, well - Aaron had wished he had helped, that he’d stepped in and been the getaway driver Robert was short that night because if he had done that, his husband might not have been dead.

Aaron had been a widower for eleven months. He’d remembered the day the police had called to his door as clear as day - they’d come, with a warrant to search their house and a notice that Robert Sugden’s car had been involved in a major incident and his body was nowhere to be found.

Missing. Presumed dead.

Aaron had waited, and waited, and hoped, but it had been eleven months now, and he had to accept Robert had died. There was no way his husband would just up, and leave him, the only way Robert would ever leave him was if he died.

So, he was focusing on the bar, now.

Robert’s criminal empire was gone, Aaron knew that much. One of Robert’s business partners, Leyla, she’d come and she’d told him - the police were too close, now, too close to the truth, and without Robert, there was no point anymore, really. They were shutting things down and moving on - new ventures, new businesses, new gangs.

Aaron had offered to step in, and replace Robert, and Leyla had simply given him a sad smile and told him that Robert had made her promise that regardless of what happened to him, Aaron was never to be involved in any business that wasn’t the bar Robert had put in his name.

So here he was. A widower at twenty-seven, running a popular bar in Leeds. Aaron did get a kick out of the nights when he’d have the local mums club in, sitting two tables over from someone Robert had only ever referred to as Dirty Dan, who was apparently your guy if you needed someone gotten rid of.

They had an interesting mix of clientele.

Wiping down the bar, Aaron caught a glimpse of his wedding ring. They should have been married four years, that year. Aaron would joke, that Robert was a cradle-snatcher, marrying a baby-faced Aaron was he was barely twenty-three, but the truth was, Aaron had been ready to marry Robert from the moment he’d met the older man.

When you know, you know.

 _Knew_.

Aaron looked up as he heard the door open. “We’re not open yet,” he said, back to the door. “You’ll have to come back in an hour.”

“Is that any way to greet your husband?”

Now, if Aaron wasn’t in such a state of shock when he heard Robert’s voice for the first time in nearly a year, he might have reacted better - but, as he turned around and came face to face with the love of his life, a man he thought was dead, Aaron couldn’t help but throw the cloth he was holding at Robert’s head.

And the bottle of Dettol.

And a fistful of drinks mats.

And -

“Aaron, Aaron, stop,” Robert dropped his bag, moving to catch Aaron’s hands in his own before he could throw anything else. Probably wise, considering the next thing to hand was a stack of pint glasses.

“You’re dead! You’re supposed to be dead!” Aaron shoved at Robert’s chest. “I thought you were dead, Robert.”

“I know, I know - I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. Just - please stop throwing things at me,” Robert pleaded, his eyes wide. He looked different. His hair was longer, and he wasn’t wearing his usual neat suit, a plain jumper and jeans his outfit of choice - but he was still Robert, he was still the man Aaron married.

Back from the dead, apparently.

“I had a funeral for you, Robert!” Aaron couldn’t stop the tears that were pouring down his cheeks now. “They never found a body, but I needed to have a funeral - so I stood with your sister while we buried an empty fucking box, Robert.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert fought against Aaron has he tried to shove him again, pulling his husband into his arms, holding him tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

Aaron let out a shaky breath, unable to fight the side of him who wanted to just give in and be held by Robert again, after nearly a year of thinking he’d never get to do that again. “What - what did you do this time, Robert?” he sighed, feeling the beginnings of a stress migraine as he pulled back, eyes scanning every inch of Robert’s body.

Two arms, two legs, face intact.

Aaron had a checklist he’d go through, every time Robert came back in off a job later than agreed. If everything could be ticked off, he wouldn’t be mad at Robert for being late, that was the deal.

Aaron didn’t feel much like upholding their little deal, anymore.

“It’s a long story,” Robert admitted, giving Aaron a soft smile. “You look good, Aaron.”

“You conned me into thinking you were dead for eleven months, Robert, I think I’ve got time,” Aaron marched behind the counter, reaching for one of their top shelf bottles of whiskey, taking a generous swig, the amber liquid burning a path down his throat, and into his stomach as he did so.

This was real, then.

“It’s a funny story, really,” Robert tried to joke. “I was one of the good guys, this time. I made a deal with the police - I help them bring down Lawrence White, and they wouldn’t prosecute me. I’m small fish, compared to the things Lawrence is involved with.”

“And you couldn’t have told me this?” Aaron demanded. “You had to - you had to convince me you were dead?”

“Yes,” Robert said, at least having the decency to look regretful. “The Whites have been watching you, Aaron.”

“How? I’ve got your lot in here twenty-four seven, I even had Rory try and walk me to my car every night the first six months you were gone,” Aaron said, thinking of the good-intentioned, but not quite all there lad that had been one of Robert’s most trusted henchmen, Rory going from sidekick to a criminal mastermind to a bar doorman without so much as a protest.

“Beth, your waitress, she works for the Whites.”

“Wait - what?” Aaron thought of the young girl who had worked in their bar for close to two years now. “You gave her a job, Robert.”

“And the Whites paid for her mums cancer treatment,” Robert explained, sliding on to one of the bar stools, reaching for the whiskey. “Who do you think she started working for then?”

“So, she’s…. She’s been watching me, this whole time?”

Robert nodded. “Leyla fed you the wrong information, Aaron,” he said. “She was in on the sting too. She’s got a kid to worry about, you know? So don’t blame her for not telling you. We needed someone here to give you the information we needed you to pass on to the Whites.”

“I can’t believe you, Robert,” Aaron let out a shocked laugh. “Everyone else knew? Except me?”

“No.” Robert shook his head, “Just, Leyla and Rory.”

“But you couldn’t tell me, could you?” Aaron couldn’t hold back his anger now. “Your own husband? You let me grieve for you instead, you let me think you were dead all this time, Robert. And for what?”

“For us!” Robert exclaimed. “Aaron, I’m free, I’m a free man. It was either I do this, or I spend the rest of my life in prison - at least this way, I got to come home to you, in the end. We can have a happy ever after now, I promise you.”

“You really think you can walk back through that door after making me think you were dead for a year, and have us just ride off into the sunset?”  
  
Robert smirked slightly. “Well, no one actually told you I was dead, Aaron,” he pointed out. “I’ve been missing, not dead.”

Aaron fixed him with a deadly glare. “You’re gunning for a slap, you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Robert moved, following Aaron behind the counter. “I am, I’m sorry. If there had been another way out, I would have taken it - but this was the only way I could make sure we got to have a life together, Aaron, and you visiting me once a week in prison wouldn’t have been a life, would it?”

Aaron was quiet for a second. “I can’t believe you’ve been running a criminal empire since you were nineteen and you managed to escape prison,” he mumbled, helpless to do anything but forgive Robert as his husband stood in front of him, alive and well.

You kind of had to forgive your husband when they came back from the dead.

“What can I say?” Robert grinned wickedly, leaning in for a kiss. “I’m nothing short of a criminal mastermind, Aaron.”

Aaron put a hand over Robert’s mouth, shaking his head. “A criminal mastermind who’s got a lot of making up to do before he can get anywhere near his husband again,” he said, tossing Robert a mop. “You can start by cleaning the toilets.”  
  
Robert looked at him, wide-eyed. “Are you being serious right now?”

Aaron grinned, leaning against the counter. “You might be a slightly reformed criminal mastermind, Mr Dingle, but this is my bar, and what I say, goes. Now - chop chop, we had a hen party in here last night and I’d hate to think what state the ladies are in.”


	2. t w o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when you come back from the dead, you’ve got the small issue of having to explain to your family (and family in law) what the hell happened. and apparently, its impolite to do it via email.

“I still think I could have sent an email in advance and prepared them a bit,” Robert commented, eyes flickering over to the steering wheel, his nerves at Aaron driving his car still all too apparent.

Aaron swallowed a snarky comment about how he was a better driver than Robert anyway, and glared at his husband. “How would you word that email, eh? Hi everyone, just checking in to say I haven’t actually died after all. Does 2pm Sunday suit for a roast? I’ll cook!”

“You’ve gotten even more sarcastic since I’ve been gone,” Robert grumbled, slumping in the passenger seat of the car, brushing away non-existent lint from his trousers.

“Call it a coping mechanism,” Aaron replied, flicking on the indicator and taking the turn off for Emmerdale.

“Aaron.”

“Robert,” Aaron mimicked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I’ve been back a week.”

“Very observant of you, Robert. Do you know the days of the week now, as well?” Aaron snarked back, practically crawling through the village, trying to delay their arrival at the Woolpack.

He was more than a little concerned about what sort of reaction his mum would have to Robert magically coming back from the dead, considering Chas was the one who had to practically move in with him for three months so Aaron wouldn’t completely go over the edge without Robert.

“Aaron, come on. Don’t - I need you on my side,” Robert pleaded, reaching for one of Aaron’s hands, Aaron quickly returning his free hand to the steering wheel, about as subtle as a flying brick in his quest to avoid contact with his husband.

Aaron had been doing that all week, avoiding Robert. They hadn’t even kissed, not even a quick  _peck_.

The thing was, Aaron knew he should be  _grateful_  on some level. His husband had come back from the dead, so to speak. Other people, they didn’t get that - the people they loved stayed dead. If Aaron was the kind of guy who believed in fate, he’d say he and Robert were getting a second chance, a chance to have a normal life together - and maybe, maybe in a few weeks he’d feel that way, but right now, he was angry.

Angry Robert had kept him out of the loop.

Angry he’d had to grieve Robert for nearly a year, that he’d had to go through all the heartbreak, and sadness - and for what?

Angry that well, Robert had still abandoned him, on some level. He’d left Aaron to pick up the pieces of their live and try and rebuild it into a life he could lead on his own. A part of Aaron was just angry that Robert thought he could waltz back into Aaron’s life, and they’d pick up exactly where they left off.

“I have always been on your side,” Aaron said, switching off the ignition. “Even when I shouldn’t have been, Robert. I was on your side when the whole world was telling me what a bad idea you were, how you’d only hurt me - how I’d end up in prison, because of you. I was on your side because I knew you would give anything to protect me, so I knew I was safe with you.”

* * *

 

“You still are,” Robert shifted in the passenger seat, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked at Aaron. “Everything I did this past year, Aaron, I did for us - I did it to keep you safe.”

“You did it to stay out of prison,” Aaron said quietly. “If you were protecting me, Robert, you wouldn’t have let me think you were dead.”

“Aaron.”

“A week ago, I was a widow,” Aaron shook his head, gripping tightly to the car keys. He’d spent all of the past week overwhelmed, completely and utterly overwhelmed. In theory, your husband coming back from the dead was a good thing, but it was more complicated in reality. Aaron’s chest was a mess of feelings - anger, sadness, relief. He didn’t know which one to focus on, in all honesty. “You need to give me time to process all this, Robert. If you keep pushing, I will just push you away, and you know that. So can we please just go inside, and explain this mess to your family and mine?”

Robert nodded, quiet for a second before he grinned. “How much do you want to bet that your mum will literally murder me with a butter knife?”

“I think it’ll probably be something sharp and rusty to your balls, actually,” Aaron said sweetly, easing himself out of the car. He’d left Emmerdale with Robert when he was twenty-two, caught up in the fantastic world of cars, and parties, and holidays the older man offered him, and he hadn’t lived there since - in so many ways, Aaron felt as though he’d outgrown the village, that he’d left it behind.

Being back, it made Aaron feel like the angry teenager he used to be again, and there was a ring on his finger and keys to a top-spec Audi in his hands that proved that very much wrong.

“Who first?” Robert asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Aaron had seen his husband do a deal with a mafia boss, for crying out loud - facing down their respective families shouldn’t have been such a big deal.

“Victoria,” Aaron said, thinking of Robert’s sister. She’d been inconsolable, those first few months - Aaron was fairly certain if it wasn’t for Matty Barton, Vic wouldn’t have made it through the past year.

“How’s she been?”

“As you’d imagine,” Aaron said, letting them into the quiet backroom of the Woolpack. There was plenty of noise coming from the pub, and considering it was a Sunday afternoon, Aaron assumed most of the village was probably in there.

It was one way to have a homecoming, Aaron supposed.

Knocking briefly on the kitchen door, Aaron stepped inside, Robert behind him. “Vic?” he said, his sister-in-law’s back to him as she cooked, Marlon out of the kitchen for whatever reason.

“Aaron, I have roughly thirty lasagnes to make in the next ten seconds, and a cake to finish icing for Sarah’s birthday, so I absolutely cannot make you a sneaky plate of chips right now,” Victoria called over her shoulder, bustling around the kitchen.

“Vic, just stop for a second, yeah?” Aaron really wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Like - hey Vic, you know how we thought your brother was dead? Turns out, it was all an elaborate police heist to bring down the White family empire. Funny story, right?

“Aaron, what part of I’m busy are you not getting?” Vic sounded exasperated, picking up the birthday cake and turning around, ready to give out to Aaron for annoying her. “Robert?” she said, practically in stage whisper, eyes wide.

“Surprise?” Robert said weakly, Aaron about ready to thump his husband for leading with  _surprise_.

Before he could, though - well, it seemed Vic had a similar idea, because one second she was staring at Robert in shock, and the next he was wearing Sarah’s birthday cake.

Aaron - well, he couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at the shock on Robert’s face, icing and sponge cake dripping down his neck, all over the atrociously expensive shirt he was wearing.

“Don’t - don’t laugh!”

“Robert Jacob Sugden, you are supposed to be dead! I go and visit your bloody headstone once a week!” Victoria grabbed the next closest thing to her, tossing a bunch of paper plates at Robert.

“Why is everyone’s reaction to throw things at me?” Robert ducked another one of Victoria’s potshots, wiping at the cake on his face. “Vic, will you just calm down for a second, please?”

Victoria looked at him with watery eyes. “I thought you were dead, Robert.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Robert tried to comfort this little sister, regret and sadness written all over his face. “Vic, just - please let me explain.”

“Oh, I would  _love_  an explanation too.”

Aaron turned around to see Chas standing in the doorway, hands on hips and a menacing look on her face - that notorious expression she got right before she was about to bar someone from her pub, actually.

Aaron glanced over at Robert, who was still dripping in cake, a frustrated expression on his face. “Looks like you have some explaining to do.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Chas, I appreciate that I’ve royally pissed you off, but do you have to stand there holding a knife?” Robert raised an eyebrow, looking at his mother in-law. He was dressed in one of Aaron’s old t-shirts, the ones Aaron had left behind when he’d moved out, all those years ago, and it was erring slightly on the side of too small for Aaron’s husband, his biceps practically bulging.

Clearly, Robert had a decent gym routine going when he was in hiding for a year.

Aaron looked over his shoulder at his mum, who was, sure enough, standing behind Aaron, literally wielding a knife. “Mum, put the knife down,” he sighed. “Trust me, if I’d wanted to murder him, I would have done it already.”

“Hm.” Chas made a distasteful noise, but put the bread-knife down all the same. “I can’t believe you made us all think you were dead for a year, Robert. Do you even realise what you’ve put us all through?”

“I know, and I’m sorry - but there was no other way,” Robert said. “If I brought down the Whites, I got my freedom, and you know me, Chas, I wouldn’t survive prison. I’m not cut out for it.”

“Because you’ve always been slippery as hell,” Cain said, sipping a bottle of beer. Aaron was almost impressed with how quickly Chas had managed to call a Dingle-Sugden family meeting, if he was honest. “What finally had the police catching up to you this time?”

Robert looked down at his hands, shame written across his face. “I made a deal with the Whites,” he admitted. “A deal I couldn’t afford to pay for, and either they were going to go to the police, or I got there first.”

“I told you!” Chas exclaimed. “I told you for years, to stay away from those Whites, Robert. What made you do a deal with them, of all people?”

“I got greedy,” Robert admitted, glancing over at Aaron. They’d had this conversation already, they’d talked about it - about how Robert started seeing pound signs, and he risked the empire he’d build for himself all for some quick cash.

“So Aaron had to pay the price for it, yeah?” Paddy piped up for the first time, brow furrowed. “He had to - he had to grieve you, as if you’d died, for a whole entire year, all because you got greedy?”

“Paddy -“ Robert began, looking genuinely apologetic.

“I knew he never should have married you,” Paddy said, red-faced with anger. “Aaron has always been better off without you, you know. If you’d just stayed gone, maybe he finally could have moved on.”

That was enough for Aaron, really.

“I need some air,” he said, standing up and scraping back his chair, not bothering to wait for a reply from any of his family before he left the pub, heading out into the cool, breezy afternoon.

Aaron had always known how much Paddy disapproved of Robert. Paddy, well - he’d given so much time, and energy, trying to put Aaron on the straight and narrow, and Aaron knew he’d risked all that for the sake of love.

But it’s a risk Aaron would take again and again, if it meant he could have Robert.

“Aaron! Aaron, wait up.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder to see Robert jogging behind him, following Aaron into the graveyard. “Why aren’t you still in there?”

“Because, however much I’d like to explain myself to the Spanish Inquisition in there,” Robert said, falling into step beside him. “You’ve always been the most important person in the world to me Aaron, and if you’re not okay, I need to fix that.”

“How am I supposed to be okay, Robert?” Aaron asked, stopping right where he’d intended on going in the first place. “I said goodbye to you here, nearly a year ago,” he said, pointing at the gravestone in front of them.

 

_Robert Jacob Sugden, 22nd April 1986 - 17th August, 2017._

_Beloved husband, brother and son._

 

Robert was quiet for a few minutes, taking in the words engraved on the stone in front of him. “It’s - it’s weird, seeing your own gravestone,” he admitted, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“It’s weirder seeing your dead husband standing in front of his gravestone,” Aaron replied, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

“Aaron, I’m sorry. I really am - I’m so, so sorry,” Robert said, his expression sincere as he stood in front of Aaron, half the man he used to be. “I got greedy, and Paddy is right - you had to pay the price for it. That wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right.”

Aaron stayed quiet, still twisting the ring around his finger, a nervous habit he hadn’t ever seemed to quit, not even after being married for four years, now. It had become a comfort, as of late, if Aaron was being entirely honest.

“When I married you, I promised I would always keep you safe, that I would protect you - but I failed, Aaron.”

Aaron sighed. “You didn’t fail, Robert,” he said. “I’m still here, aren’t I? You made sure I was never going to go down for anything you were involved in, that was protecting me.”

“But I let this happen,” Robert gestured at the gravestone. “I let you grieve for me, Aaron. That wasn’t protecting you.”

Aaron looked at Robert - really, truly looked at him for the first time since he’d come back. His hair was longer, at the front, the way it had been when they’d first gotten married. That tiny scar from when he’d fallen one Christmas when they’d gone ice-skating down in London, that was still there.

Aaron gently ran his fingers across Robert’s face, fingertips brushing his nose, his mouth, his eyes. “I did this every night when you would come in off a job,” he said softly, fingers moving to Robert’s hands, counting his every finger.  _Seven, eight, nine, ten_. “Remember?”

“Of course I do,” Robert’s eyes were fluttering shut, as though the feeling of Aaron’s hands against his skin after all this time was too much. “It was our deal.”

“It was,” Aaron said, thinking of the deal he’d made with Robert as a desperate twenty-three year old, who was worried about the man he loved. If Robert came in late from a job, he had to sit there and let Aaron tick everything off his mental checklist - hands, fingers, nose, all intact. If he didn’t pass Aaron’s checklist, that’s when Aaron was allowed to get mad at him for being late.

“Do I pass?” Robert asked softly.

“You’re late,” Aaron said, thumb brushing against the sharp line of Robert’s cheekbone. “You’re so very late, Mr Dingle.”

“But I’m here,” Robert said, finding the confidence to reach out and hold tightly to Aaron’s waist, a movement reminiscent of all those nights Aaron would cling to Robert, just grateful his husband was safe.

“You’re here,” Aaron hummed his agreement, pressing a brief kiss to Robert’s list. “This better be the last time I do my checklist, Robert. I can’t - I can’t live like this anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” Robert shook his head. “I’m on the straight and narrow now, I swear to you.”

Aaron couldn’t help but smirk. “You’re anything but straight, Robert.”

(Aaron knew what he was getting into when he married Robert Sugden, criminal mastermind. Robert Sugden, upstanding citizen? That was going to be a new adventure.)


	3. t h r e e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s the night before aarons twenty-first birthday, and he’s just been dumped. its a recipe for disaster, really, until he meets the fit owner of the nightclub he was getting drunk in, and gets an unexpected birthday present.

Aaron was a good boyfriend. God, he was a good boyfriend. He was a good boyfriend, and good boyfriends didn’t deserve to be dumped, did they?

Okay, well - maybe Aaron hadn’t been the best boyfriend he could have been, all things considered. Aaron - well, he could have been more attentive, he supposed, more interested in his relationship with Ed.

He probably could have started by liking Ed, like really, legitimately liking him.

Aaron was attracted to him, sure. Ed was banging, and Aaron wasn’t blind. So, he’d gone head-first into the relationship, hoping that like would follow attraction, but it hadn’t, not really.

Ed had been nice. He’d been kind, and attentive, and well - Aaron hadn’t been a very good boyfriend, had he? Not in the end. Maybe - maybe he’d deserved to be dumped. He probably had, if he was being entirely honest with himself.

But Aaron would have rathered he hadn’t been dumped a week before his birthday.

It’s not - it’s not as if he cared about his birthday, really. Aaron wasn’t the type who needed cake, and a party every year, but it would have been nice not to be fresh out of a breakup, right on the cusp of turning twenty-one.

Twenty one.

It sounded old, if you asked Aaron. Twenty one made him sound like more of an adult, as though he was supposed to have his life together now, and Aaron definitely didn’t have his life together.

If he did, he wouldn’t have been getting drunk on whiskey he couldn’t afford, all alone, on the night before his twenty-first birthday. Aaron was pretty sure he was going to have to leg it, before the barmaid asked him to settle up his bill, because he had about fifty quid in his wallet and he needed most of that to get home.

He’d ran out of favours with the Barton brothers when it came to blagging a free taxi back to Emmerdale. Aaron probably would have been able to get away with it, if he hadn’t maybe (definitely) slept with Finn a few nights previous, and then told Finn exactly where to shove it when he’d tried to ask a very hungover Aaron on a date.

Funny, it was hard to get yourself a free taxi home when you’d broken the heart of the village taxi-driver.

Aaron steadied himself on the bar-stool, clinging tightly to the glass of whiskey in front of him as he did so.

Maybe -  _maybe_  he hadn’t been such a great boyfriend at all.

Aaron glanced up as he noticed the doors to the bar open, a blond man walking in, flanked by two burly looking men dressed all in black, looking as if he owned the place. He was wearing a maroon coloured suit, the material a seamless fit to his body, tight everywhere it needed to be, leaving oh-so very little to Aaron’s imagination.

He was fit.

Like, really, really fit.

Here’s the thing. Aaron didn’t have a type, not really - he wasn’t like Adam, who’d go for any brunette within half a mile radius of him. Aaron had always been the kind of guy who liked who he liked - and more often than not, he fell for the personality before anything else.

But this guy.

 ** _This_**  guy.

He was gorgeous. Like, jaw-dropping, mouth-watering, sell your family for a chance kind of gorgeous. He stood in the middle of the busy bar as if he owned the place, confident as anything, a smirk fixed in place on his stupidly beautiful face as he spoke to a woman Aaron assumed was the manager.

Aaron didn’t have a type, but if he did, it would be this guy - tall, blond, legs for days, and captivating blue-y-green eyes that Aaron couldn’t help but notice under the dim lights of the bar.

He couldn’t help himself. Aaron knew he was staring, he was self aware enough to realise that - but he didn’t really care if he got caught.

(Aaron kind of wanted to be caught, if he was honest.)

As if the blond could read Aaron’s mind, he looked directly over at Aaron, raising an eyebrow as he realised Aaron had been staring. Aaron watched as he said something to the entourage he was with, barely a minute passing before he was walking across the bar, straightening the front of his jacket.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, voice as smooth as velvet.

On a good day, Aaron might have snarked back - said something suitably sarcastic - but today wasn’t a good day. “I’m just having a drink,” he mumbled, gesturing vaguely at his glass.

“I can see that,” the blond said, reaching for Aaron’s glass, sniffing at the liquid. “No, this won’t do. Emily, pour two glasses of the Macallan, please,” he said, waving over one of the barmaids.

“I don’t need - I’m fine with this,” Aaron shook his head, keeping hold of his glass. Judging by the watch on the blonds hand, Aaron definitely couldn’t afford whatever whiskey he was ordering them.

“Sure, you might be fine with that,” the blond said, easing the glass out of Aaron’s grip. “But if you’re going to sit here and get drunk off whiskey, you might as well enjoy the experience, no? This, right here, it’s the best whiskey we’ve got in this place. Trust me, you’ll like it.”

“I would if I thought I could afford it,” Aaron replied, eyeing up the tiny measure of spirits in the glass. Why did rich people do things in such small measures? Posh food, posh drink - they never seemed to come in big portions.

“Well,” the blond offered him a dazzling smile. “It’s a good thing you’re speaking to the owner of this bar then, isn’t it?”

Of course. Of course he owned the bar.

“Are you trying to impress me?” Aaron asked, reaching for the new glass of whiskey.

“Is it working?” the blond inquired, sliding into the seat next to Aaron.

“I’m not into flash fellas,” Aaron shook his head, studying the older mans expression. He was looking intently at Aaron, blue-y-green eyes fixed on Aaron’s own. “So if you’re trying to 50 shades me or summat, it’s not going to work.”

The blond laughed. “I wasn’t trying to do anything except sit here, and have a drink with you……?” he trailed off, clearly waiting for a name.

“Why should I tell you my name?”

“Because I’m curious,” the blond shrugged, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’m Robert, by the way.”

“Robert,” the name rolled off Aaron’s tongue, feeling new and unfamiliar as he spoke. Robert. The name seemed to suit the man, fitting him in a way that Aaron didn’t quite understand. “I’m Aaron.”

“Aaron,” Robert said, letting Aaron’s name linger between them for a second or two. “Aaron, what has a good looking lad like you sitting here alone then?” he inquired, genuinely looking curious.

“Does that line ever work?” Aaron scrunched up his face.

“It’s not a line,” Robert shook his head. “You caught my attention as soon as I walked in the front door, Aaron.”

Aaron hated the way his heart skipped a literal beat as Robert spoke. “I just got dumped,” he admitted. “Apparently I’m not a very good boyfriend.”

“I doubt that,” Robert drawled, taking another sip of his whiskey. “She clearly doesn’t know what she’s missing, this girl.”

“Guy,” Aaron corrected, unsure as to why he was so willing to tell Robert his life-story. Something about the other man was captivating, and Aaron wanted to know more. He wanted  _more_.

“So you’re drinking to forget him?”

“I’m drinking because it’s my birthday tomorrow, and I just got dumped,” Aaron said, taking a swig of the whiskey. It burned his throat, as he drank it, making Aaron cough violently.

“Its your birthday tomorrow?” Robert waved over the waitress again, reeling off another few orders for her. “What age will you be?”

“Why, are you going to buy me a present?” Aaron found his confidence as he spoke, wanting to give a more back to his back and forth with Robert. He wasn’t exactly the most flirty person in the world, but something about Robert made him want to be.

“If you’d like,” Robert said, the waitress arriving over with a bottle of champagne, and a bucket of ice.

“You really are trying to fifty shades of grey me,” Aaron laughed, watching as Robert stood up, ice bucket in hand.

“You wouldn’t still be sitting here if you weren’t interested,” Robert pointed out, looking over Aaron’s shoulder. “Do you want the grand tour, or not?” he inquired, Aaron waiting all of five seconds to get up and follow Robert through the busy bar.

It was nearly his birthday, okay? Aaron deserved to have a little fun, and Robert, with a bottle of champagne in hand and a smirk on his face just seemed fun. The kind of fun he hadn’t been having with Ed, the kind of fun Aaron hadn’t had in a long time.

The kind of fun that had Aaron perched on the edge of one of the sofas in a private backroom of the bar, biting the side of his lip as he watched Robert carefully shrug off his suit jacket, revealing a tight, white shirt underneath.

“Am I going to get a birthday kiss, then?” Aaron inquired, tilting his head slightly as he drank in Robert’s appearance.

Yeah, Aaron deserved this.

“Anything you want,” Robert said softly, the bass from the thumping music being played out in the bar making the room practically vibrate. Robert stood between Aaron’s legs, brushing a careful hand through Aaron’s messy hair, lips barely an inch from Aaron’s as he spoke again. “Anything you want Aaron, you can have.”

_You._

_I want you._


	4. f o u r

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its not every day you find out your maybe-sort of boyfriend runs a criminal empire, is it?

Aaron hadn’t exactly planned on seeing Robert again, if he was honest. The night before his birthday, it had been great - really great, actually, and he’d shagged Robert in the private backroom of his bar, something completely un-Aaron, if he was being honest, and it was been the best night.

He’d left the bar sex drunk, and about a third of the way to actual drunk, and he’d stopped off for a bag of chips on the way home, and Aaron had slept like a baby, if he was being entirely honest.

But he’d just gotten out of a relationship - it’s not as if Aaron wanted to jump headfirst into another, so he had pocketed Robert’s number, and he hadn’t exactly planned on using it again.

Surprisingly, it had been Cain who’d said something that had made him want to.

Cain, who had become quite the advice giver now that he was in an actual functioning relationship with Moira. Aaron would have teased him for it, if his uncles words hadn’t hit him as hard as they had.

Life was too short to be alone.

So, Aaron had called Robert up, and suggested a drink - not in Robert’s bar, Aaron had said with a smile, knowing exactly where they’d end up if they did, in a private room with Robert’s hands down Aaron’s trousers, and his lips on Aaron’s neck.

No, it had been a bar of Aaron’s choosing, this time, a bar Robert look horrendously out of place in, which was making Aaron laugh, if he was honest. Robert was wearing a ridiculously smart suit, a navy material that had been soft under Aaron’s hands as they’d hugged hello, a suit not entirely suited to the burgers and pints style bar they were in.

“I was starting to think you were never going to call, you know,” Robert said, sipping on his pint. There was something about him, Aaron decided, the two of them crammed in a tiny corner table, the pub heaving. There was something about him that made Aaron curious, curious enough to want to know more.

“You could have called me,” Aaron offered, fingers running through the damp condensation on his pint glass.

“I would have, if you hadn’t given me a fake number.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, but in my defence, I’m just out of a relationship,” he said. “I didn’t know if I wanted to see you again.”

Robert sat back in his seat, thigh brushing against Aaron’s. “What made you change your mind?” he inquired, genuinely curious as to what Aaron’s answer was.

“I…… I had fun, that night,” Aaron said, ducking his head slightly as a faint blush appeared in his cheeks. He was hardly a prude, thank you very much, but he’d never been a meet a guy in a bar and have sex with him half an hour after you first met kind of guy, either.

Vic had joked he was a serial monogamist, and well - it was sort of true, really, wasn’t it? Aaron had always liked being in a relationship. There had been Jackson, and Ed - Aaron had only been out three years, and he’d been in two long term relationships.

Now, well - Robert was offering him something completely different to every other relationship he’d been in, and Aaron was happy to take him up on that offer, he decided.

“I did too,” Robert offered, his blond hair perfectly swept back off his forehead, giving him an almost boy-ish look, in the dim lights of the bar.

“I feel like its been a long time since I had fun,” Aaron admitted, taking a swig of his pint. “And I figure, why not keep having some fun with you, you know?” he shrugged slightly, not wanting to say too much, either. You didn’t play all your cards on a first date, did you?

Robert grinned. “Well, I can do fun,” he said, looking as though he was about to say something else when he phone stared to ring. “Sorry,” he said, genuinely apologetic as he rooted in his suit pocket. “I thought I’d turned it off, just a second.”

Aaron watched as Robert’s brow furrowed, as though the number on screen wasn’t something he was all too happy about seeing.

“Sorry, it’s work,” Robert said, standing up. “I’d better take it, it might be important. Give me a second, yeah?”

Aaron nodded, watching as Robert ducked out the door of the bar, out onto the main street. He looked stressed, as he answered the call, whoever was on the other end of the line clearly not having very good news for Robert - Aaron assumed, at least.

An assumption Robert confirmed when he stalked back inside the bar, a face like thunder. “I’m sorry, there’s a problem back at the bar,” he said, shoving his phone back inside his pocket.

“It’s okay,” Aaron shook his head. “We can reschedule, Robert.”

“No, no - I can fix it quickly,” Robert said. “How would you feel about coming with me? Theres a decent pizza place around the corner from my bar, we could go there afterward and grab some food, if you’d fancy it.”

Aaron nodded, taking one last swig of his pint. “I could go for pizza,” he admitted. He’d snagged a sandwich off Paddy, before he’d dropped Aaron into Leeds, getting crumbs all over a grumpy Paddy’s car as he’d wolfed it down. He’d ended up having to work later than planned, at the garage.

Robert grinned widely. “Good,” he said, throwing a fifty pound note on the table, enough to cover their drinks five times over. “I’ll grab us a taxi, then.”

Yeah, Aaron was curious about Robert.

Very, very curious.

Curious enough to get in a taxi with him, Robert having the driver speed off across Leeds to the other side of the city, where his bar was. Robert’s bar looked even posher, now Aaron was sober, all elegant finishes and pricey drinks, and it suited Robert down to the ground.

Aaron followed Robert through the crowd, and toward the bar, where a dark-haired woman Aaron vaguely recognised from his one (and only) visit to the place was standing, looking as stressed as Robert’s stiff posture implied he was.

“Emily, get Aaron whatever he wants,” Robert practically barked, not even looking at the waitress who was serving behind the bar, apparently having an entirely silent conversation with the dark-haired woman.

“Just a - just a pint,” Aaron shrugged awkwardly, drumming his fingers against the bar.

“I won’t be long,” Robert said, mouth close to Aaron’s ear as he spoke, making sure he was being heard over the thumping music of the bar. “Then I’m all yours, okay?” he said, a ‘I want you’ kind of look in his eyes Aaron wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to, want curling around Aaron’s every nerve and cell, the kind of want he could feel right down into his toes.

“Okay,” Aaron replied, willing his gooey limbs to direct him somewhat gracefully into a chair, watching as Robert stalked across the bar, the dark-haired woman and two burly looking lads on his heels.

“Here’s your pint.”

Aaron looked up as Emily slid a drink toward him, her brow furrowed. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, the cool glass steadying his racing heart as he clutched it tightly.

“I’m not trying to get involved in your business - and god knows I know not to get involved with Mr Sugden’s,” Emily said, her voice soft as she spoke, as though she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “But I hope you know who you’re getting into bed with.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, what - what do you mean?” he asked, confused.

“I mean,” Emily glanced over her shoulder. “Do you know the kind of people he’s involved with?”

“I still don’t get what you mean.”

Emily glanced over toward the door Robert disappeared through. “I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt, that’s all. He’s done it before, and I’m sure you won’t be the last. He’s a dangerous man, Aaron.”

Aaron swallowed thickly, the weight of her words sinking in.

I’m sure you won’t be the last.

Did that - what did that even mean? Was Aaron just a fling, a bit on the side?

A bit on the side.

God, Robert was married, wasn’t he? He was married, and the kind of guy who played away from home enough that his own staff were warning his newest conquest.

No, no - that wouldn’t do.

Aaron pushed the pint away from himself, shaking his head. “I’m going to go home,” he said. “I’ve got - I need to go, just tell Robert I didn’t feel well or summat.”

Aaron didn’t bother waiting for a response before he shoved his way through the bar, and out into the cool January air. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been, stupid enough to let himself get involved with someone who was apparently married.

Oh god.

Did that make Aaron a home-wrecker, now? Aaron was pretty sure shagging a married man made him a home-wrecker.

January was turning out to be a really, really shitty month.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It had been a week, since Aaron had walked out of Robert’s bar, and it had been a week since he’d started screening the other mans phonecalls, doing his best to ignore him.

It was better to cut himself off before he got too attached.

“You’re not an easy man to track down.”

Aaron looked over his shoulder, Robert, of all bloody people, walking onto the gym floor. He almost hated the way Robert commanded the room, even Aaron’s instructor ducking away. “Are you stalking me?” he inquired, yanking off his boxing gloves.

“No,” Robert shook his head, the burly guy who seemed to follow him everywhere standing in the doorway, pretending to be distracted by his phone. “But Eric, he’d an old friend of mine, and it just so happens that Rory,” he jerked his head toward the human version of a brick wall. “Works out here too, and saw you during the week.”

“That’s stalking,” Aaron said, reaching for his bottle of water. He’d come to train to forget Robert, not to have the man in question interrupt his session with Jack.

“You walked out on our date,” Robert said, looking even more out of place than usual in a deep burgundy suit, the outfit a complete clash with the peeling paint and run-down feel of Eric’s gym. “And you were ignoring my phonecalls.”

“You didn’t get the message than, clearly.”

“What happened to make you not want this?” Robert asked. “Five minutes before I left, you were up for having fun - having fun with me. What changed?”

“You’re married, Robert,” Aaron sighed, rolling his eyes. “Why would I want to be involved with that, eh?”

Robert gave him a confused look. “I’m not married, Aaron. Why - why would you think that?”

“Someone - someone told me to be careful, that I should know the kind of people you were involved with before I got involved with you,” Aaron said, brushing a frustrated hand through his sweaty hair.

“And you took that to mean I was married?” Robert looked as though he was about to burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny, Robert!”

“It sort of us,” Robert barely held in a snort. “I’m not married, Aaron, I never have been. What - what Emily was saying to you, the gobby idiot, was nothing to do with marriage.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. How did Robert know it was Emily who had said it to him?

“I know everything that happens in my bar,” Robert said, glancing over at the door. “I’m not exactly the most legitimate businessman, Aaron. That’s what she was talking about.”

“She was warning me off over a bit of tax evasion?”

Robert winced. “More like warning you off because that bar is a front for the criminal gang I’m the boss of?” he said, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “I would have told you, in my own time, but I figured you’d run a mile, if I was honest about what I do.”

Aaron was quiet for a second, letting Robert’s words wash over him. “So you run a gang?”

“Yeah,” Robert confirmed. “I do. The problem the other night wasn’t an issue with the bar, it was a job gone wrong that I needed to do damage control on. It’s how - it’s how I found you, as well. Eric owes me a favour.”

“Okay,” Aaron shrugged. He was a Dingle, alright? A bit of illegality was hardly off-putting to him, not when most of his family had been in and out of prison his entire life.

“Okay?” Robert looked surprised by his reaction. “You’re not - you’re not running a mile. Why are you not running a mile right now?”

“Because I don’t really care,” Aaron said honestly.

He didn’t, he really didn’t.

“You were madder at the thought of me being married, than me running a criminal empire?” Robert raised an eyebrow.

Aaron shrugged. “Summat sexy about a bad boy, isn’t there? Nothing sexy about wrecking someone’s marriage.”

Robert laughed, a real, genuine laugh. “You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculous and still up for that pizza, if you’ll have me.”

Robert fixed him with the kind of gaze that had Aaron melting right down into his trainers. “Oh, I’m going to have you,” he promised, grabbing Aaron by the wrist and tugging him toward the changing rooms, kicking the door shut behind them, pinning Aaron against the wall with a surprising amount of strength. Aaron’s heart was thundering out of his chest as Robert’s teeth grazed against his jawline, Aaron’s fingers scrabbling for grip on Robert’s suit jacket.

Robert -

Well, Robert might have been a dangerous man. He probably was, given everything he’d just told Aaron.

But somehow, well - Aaron didn’t much feel like being careful around him.


	5. f i v e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaron is sick to death of only getting to know half of roberts life. or, the one where aaron finally sees the less than legal side of robert’s life.

Dating Robert, it was _**good**_ \- it was nice, it was fun. Aaron was enjoying himself, and he was having banging sex with a gorgeous man. He was winning at life, really.

But there was an element of annoyance, for Aaron. Robert, he was determined to keep Aaron at arms length from his business, and while Aaron didn’t exactly want to be involved, it meant his sort-of boyfriend was constantly disappearing with no explanation.

Aaron wasn’t the possessive type, really, but he was very much over being left mid-date, because Robert refused to let him within ten feet of anything related to his more than slightly illegal business.

“You know,” Robert drawled, sitting back in his chair. “The idea of being on a date is that we talk, Aaron - you know, you tell me about your week, I tell you about mine. Sitting here in silence isn’t much fun for either of us.”

Aaron slumped in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “I don’t see the point in talking if you’re going to have to leave halfway through,” he said, knowing full well he was being a childish pain in the arse.

He wasn’t going to stop, just because he was self aware enough to know how annoying he was being.

Aaron had a point to make, thank you very much.

“Aaron.”

“Robert.”

Robert sighed, shifting in his seat. “I told you from the start, Aaron, I’m not having you involved with the business,” he shook his head. “You’re not getting anywhere near it, so I don’t see why we’re having this argument.”

“I’m not asking you to let me rob a bank, Robert,” Aaron snarked back. “I’m asking you to stop keeping me twenty miles away from everything you do. I barely see you, and when I do, you end up having to leave because of work, and you won’t let me come with you.”

“I’m trying to protect you,” Robert said, tugging at his tie. “Aaron, come on. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you because I let you get too close to the business.”

Aaron couldn’t lie, Robert’s concern for him was genuinely endearing. But he was still mad - mad he hardly got to see his boyfriend, mad Robert was only letting him in on part of his life.

You couldn’t have a relationship if you weren’t letting the other people in on all your life.

“How are you going to be with me if you keep me at arms length from everything going on in your life, eh?” Aaron said. “Robert, you don’t have to sit me down and tell me everything thats going on. I just want to be a proper part of your life. I’m not thick, I know dating you comes with risks.”

Robert was quiet for a few minutes, a whole range of emotions flashing across his face as he sat next to Aaron, twisting the end of his tie around his fingers. “I don’t want you to see that side of my life, and think differently of me,” he admitted, a nervous crack in his voice as he spoke, voicing his real fears. “I know you can handle yourself, I know you’ll protect yourself. But I don’t want you to see that Robert, and decide I’m not for you.”

If Aaron was the mushy type, he’d have said his heart melted in his chest, there and then, hearing Robert voice his insecurities in such an uncharacteristically honest way. Dating Robert Sugden was like dating charisma personified - he was calm, and collected, and confident, and it was rare that Aaron had seen anything other than that yet, their relationship still so new.

“I like ya,” Aaron said simply, shuffling a little closer to Robert, putting a hand on the older man’s knee, rubbing a thumb against the material of Robert’s suit trousers. “The one thing that’s going to stop me from liking you is if you don’t let me into your life, Robert.”

Robert gave a tiny nod, an understanding look passing over his face. “Okay,” he said, the word sounding as though it was taking a gigantic effort to say, as though he was reluctant to let Aaron see this whole other side of his world, the one that could paint him in an unforgivable light.

Aaron wasn’t sure if he could ever see Robert in an unforgiving light.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Robert nodded, glancing at his watch. “There’s a party, happening Saturday night - at my bar. You can come, if you like.”

Aaron grinned. “Will there be food?”

Robert laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s mouth. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

Aaron smirked, tugging on Robert’s hand, and pulling him out of their booth, giving Robert about half a second to throw a tip down on the table before they left the restaurant, their fingers still tightly linked. “An idiot you’re about to take home with ya, so probably says more about you, doesn’t it?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron was nervous.

Like, genuinely, absolutely, massively nervous. He’d been the one pushing to having Robert include him in his life more, and now it was happening - well, Aaron felt a bit like he was going to vomit his heart out, standing across the road from Robert’s bar, wearing his second-best jeans and his best henley, feeling wildly underdressed as he looked at the mix of suits and expensive looking dresses that were walking into the bar ahead of him.

He probably could have gone for his best jeans, couldn’t he?

Brushing his sweaty hands against his trousers, Aaron swallowed his nerves and crossed the busy street, Rory gesturing for him to skip the waiting queue, and come inside.

“Boss said to tell you he’s in a meeting,” Rory explained, ignoring the offended looks the group at the top of the queue were giving him for letting someone skip the line. “He said to get a drink and he won’t be long.”

Aaron nodded, biting back a joke about someone genuinely referring to Robert as boss, like they were in a bad mafia film, heading into the heaving club. It was busier than he’d ever seen it, well dressed people milling about everywhere, champagne glasses in hand.

Making a mental note to ask Robert what the point of this party was, heading for the bar, where an unfamiliar face was serving.

“Aaron, right?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“Leyla said to look out for you - big day, having Mr Sugden’s boyfriend come in,” he said with an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

“Just a pint, please,” Aaron said, leaning against the bar. “What’s all this for, anyway?”’

“The party?” the barman - Jack - said, washing out a glass. “This is just normal life, here.”

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course it is, yeah.”

“You know, you’re the first person he’s ever brought to one of these parties,” Jack said, pushing the pint toward Aaron. “I think there’s a few people excited to meet you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Jack leaned a little closer, his bright smile fixed in place on his face. “Don’t tell anyone here anything about yourself,” he said, the words sounding like a warning. “Everyone here is here because they want something from Mr Sugden. If they know anything about you, it makes you a target - just, be careful.”

Aaron swallowed thickly, the reality of his boyfriend’s career hitting him all at once. On the surface, this was a fancy party - champagne, and expensive clothes - but underneath it all, there was something more dangerous.

Aaron - well, he could see why Robert wanted to keep him away from all of this.

“Aaron.”

Aaron’s thundering heart started to slow as he heard Robert’s voice, his boyfriend looping a hand around Aaron’s waist, giving his hip a reassuring squeeze. “Hiya,” he greeted.

“You okay?” Robert asked, a genuine look of concern on his face.

“I feel a bit out of place, really,” Aaron admitted, glancing around the bar. Jeans and a t-shirt didn’t really feel like it was hitting the mark, all things considered.

“You’re the only one in here I have eyes for,” Robert said smoothly, pressing his lips to the side of Aaron’s head, holding him tightly. “Keep with me, yeah? And if anyone called Chrissie White tries to talk to you, you make your excuses.”

Ok, well, Aaron’s heart was going back into overdrive again.

 _Why_  had he wanted this again?

Past Aaron was a dickhead for even suggesting that Robert introduce him to the realities of his life.

“Don’t look so worried,” Robert grinned. “I’ve got an escape route out of here, in case anything goes tits up.”

“Oh, well, that’s reassuring,” Aaron rolled his eyes, poking Robert in the side. He wasn’t entirely sure if Robert was joking or not, but a secret escape route wouldn’t surprise Aaron in the slightest, at this point.

“So,” an unfamiliar voice drawled, a ridiculously beautiful woman standing in front of him, scanning him up and down, as though she was sizing him up. “Here is the man who finally tamed the great Robert Sugden. Tell us, we’re all dying to know - how did you manage it?”

Aaron swallowed his nerves, doing his best to return the fake smile the woman was offering him. “I’m good in bed, innit?”

The man who tamed Robert Sugden.

It was good to know that was who Aaron was to the criminal underbelly of northern England, he supposed.


	6. s i x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when aaron told robert he loved him for the first time, he hadn’t really been expecting roberts answer to be **thank you**.

Aaron loved Robert’s flat. He was the kind of place he’d never think about living himself, if he was being entirely honest, all shiny surfaces and floor to ceiling glass, but he liked it all the same.

Maybe - well, maybe he liked it because of the memories attached to Robert’s flat, now.

They’d been together, officially, for going on four months now, long enough that having Robert Sugden as his boyfriend was his new normal. A new normal Aaron was very, very happy with - a new normal that was date nights, and lazy evenings in, and quiet mornings wrapped up in the man he loved.

Loved.

God - it was true, wasn’t it? Aaron loved Robert. The kind of love he wasn’t so sure he was ever going to have, love that felt sort of all-consuming, and perfectly comfortable all at once.

Love Aaron hadn’t been sure he deserved.

Aaron couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he perched on the edge of Robert’s couch, nursing a cup of tea. He’d finished work early, utilising the spare key Robert had given him for the first time to let himself into Robert’s flat, and wait for Robert to get back from whatever job he was working.

Most of the time, Aaron could forget the realities of Robert’s job, until his boyfriend ends up needing to go to Birmingham for two days out of the blue, and refuses to tell Aaron why.

It was sort of an unspoken agreement between them now, that Aaron didn’t question these things. At the end of the day, Aaron supposed, the less he knew, the less trouble he could be in if it all went tits up for Robert.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Aaron grinned as Robert’s greeting boomed through the flat, the rattle of keys being tossed into the bowl by the door a sound Aaron could get used to hearing - the kind of domestic, we’re in love and we plan to be forever, kind of sound that felt like a happy ever after.

“Hiya,” Aaron greeted, smiling against Robert’s mouth as his boyfriend kissed him, slow and hungry, like they’d been apart for two weeks, or two months, not two days. Aaron couldn’t deny it felt good, to be wanted like that, to have someone like Robert Sugden want him as desperately as he did.

Robert flopped down on the couch next to him, pulling his tie off, and chucking it at the coffee table. “What a week,” he huffed out a breath, leaning against Aaron, pressing his cheek to the clothed skin of Aaron’s arm.

“At least it’s over now,” Aaron hummed, running a hand through Robert’s perfectly styled hair, mussing the blond strands beneath his fingers.

“Is that coffee?” Robert asked, hopeful.

Aaron shook his head. “Tea,” he admitted. “I couldn’t figure out how to work your ridiculous heating, and I was cold.”

Robert laughed, easing the cup from Aaron’s grip, and taking a swig of the milky tea. “You put too much sugar in,” he grimaced, passing it back, and pressing a kiss to Aaron’s shoulder before he stood up, toeing off his shoes before he padded across the living space, flicking a switch Aaron hadn’t noticed before - the heating, clearly.

“You don’t put enough sugar in your tea,” Aaron countered. “Tea is supposed to be a comforting drink, so it should be sweet.”

It was an argument they’d had practically daily, since getting together.

Robert stuck his tongue out at Aaron, flicking the kettle on. “Do you fancy ordering a takeaway in?” he asked, thumbing through a bunch of discarded leaflets on the kitchen island.

“I could go for a Chinese,” Aaron said, lazily stretching his legs out in front of him, wiggling his socked feet, toes cramping up from the awkward position he’d been sitting in for an embarrassingly long time, day-dreaming about Robert.

“A proper dirty greasy one, yeah?” Robert grinned, busying himself making a cup of tea. Aaron couldn’t help but admire the long line of his back, shoulders broad under the pristine white shirt he was wearing, the perfect balanced of put together businessman, and slightly disheveled boyfriend, the kind of combination that had Aaron’s mouth watering in anticipation.

Aaron - well, when he thought about it later, he’d tell you it was an automatic reaction, the kind of thing he’d said on impulse, the kind of thing he’d said because it had felt right, in the moment. “I love you,” he blurted, the words out there before he could even think twice.

Robert was halfway across the room, nearly back at the couch, as Aaron said it, and he froze, his eyes wide as he processed Aaron’s words. “I - uh. Thank you?”

Now. Aaron wouldn’t have minded, if Robert hadn’t said it back, he really wouldn’t have - he was the kind of person who fell fast, and he always had been. It wouldn’t have been too devastating, if Robert hadn’t been ready to say it back.

But thank you?

 ** _Thank you_**?

It’s not as if Aaron had just offered to run down to the shops for more milk, or something. He’d just poured his bloody heart out! He’d just said he’d loved Robert for the first time, for crying out loud.

“You know what? I’m not in the mood for that takeaway anymore,” Aaron said, slamming his cup down on the coffee table, searching for his trainers.

“Aaron, wait -“

“I need to go home,” Aaron interrupted, pocketing his keys. “Bye, Robert.”

Aaron ignored Robert’s pleas as he stormed out of Robert’s flat, holding in his tears until he made it into the safety of the lift, hurtling to the ground floor.

Thank you.

Fucking thank you.

Aaron deserved more than that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aaron knew he was basically insufferable to be around, these days. It had been a week since he’d told Robert he loved him, and Aaron had been in foul form ever since. He’d ignored every call, text (and email, weirdly) from Robert, and he’d moped. He’d full on moped, lounging in his mum’s pub until she’d shooed him into the backroom, telling him he was depressing her customers, and then he’d lounged on her couch, watching repeats of The Chase and trying (and failing) not to think about Robert.

He’d been sad, and angry, and angry, and sad, and mostly just mad another relationship was blowing up in his face - and it was the kind of relationship he’d been so sure could last, could be something special.

Chucking the spanner he had in hand at the toolbox, Aaron swore loudly.

He couldn’t focus on work, now.

“What did that car ever do to you?”

Aaron looked up as Robert entered the garage, wearing a dark navy suit, and looking entirely out of place in the dirty surroundings of Dingle and Dingle. “What are you doing here?” he asked, voice gruff.

“Well, you’ve been ignoring me,” Robert said. “I’ve tried calling, and texting - and emailing, which was weird, I know, but I was desperate. The next move was finding you in person.”

“Or you could have just gotten the message that I didn’t want to see you,” Aaron said, wiping his oily hands on his overalls.

“Do I seem like the kind of person who’d give up that easily?” Robert inquired, genuinely curious.

No.

No, Robert Sugden always got what he wanted, in the end.

“Talk to me, Aaron,” Robert prodded gently, his brow furrowed.

“You said thank you.” Aaron said, knowing he couldn’t do anything except talk now, Robert standing right in front of him, and clearly desperate for answers. “I told you I loved you for the first time, and you said thank you, Robert. This - this isn’t easy for me, and you know that, you know how hard I find all this, and you said thank you.”

“I know,” Robert, at least, had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“It hurt, Robert,” Aaron folded his arms across his chest, willing his tears to stay unshed. He was embarrassed enough, without breaking down in Robert’s arms and crying his heart out.

“I know,” Robert repeated. “Can I - can I just explain, please?”

Aaron gave a curt nod.

“You know who I am, Aaron,” Robert said. “I can dress it up with fancy parties, and nice suits, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m still a criminal, and a lot of people out there, they want to hurt me - they want to find my weaknesses, and target them.”

“Whats that got to do with me?”

“Loving you gives them something to target,” Robert said. “You want my business? You want to force a deal with me? You do it by hurting the person I love, and that puts you in danger, Aaron. Me loving you, it could get you hurt, in the end.”

Aaron swallowed thickly. “I knew what I was getting involved with when I started going out with you, Robert,” he said, the underlying reality of Robert’s words washing over him.

Robert did love him back.

“Do you?” Robert countered. “Do you really know, Aaron? Because I don’t think you do.”

“I know enough to know I love you, Robert.”

“And I love you,” Robert replied, stepping closer. “But if anything ever happened to you, Aaron, I would never forgive myself.”

Aaron hated the desperation that flashed across Robert’s face as he spoke. “Then promise me it won’t.”

Robert shook his head, frustrated. “I - I can’t do that, you know I can’t.”

“You can,” Aaron countered. “I trust you, Robert - you’ve never given me a reason not to. So promise me you’ll always protect me.”

“You know I will.”

“Then whatever happens, is going to happen,” Aaron said simply. “I love you enough to risk it, Robert.”

“You shouldn’t -“

“Who cares what I should and shouldn’t do?” Aaron couldn’t help but grin. “When has anyone ever told me what to do, and come out the other side intact?”

Robert laughed, despite the sad expression fixed in place on his face. “This is such a bad idea, Aaron.”

Aaron shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But if losing Jackson taught me anything, Robert, it’s that life is genuinely too short not to take a few risks. I want you, risks and all.”

“I love you so much,” Robert said softly, the words making Aaron’s heart race in his chest as he finally said them, finally said it properly. They were the kind of words Aaron could hear from Robert for the rest of his life.

“I love you too,” Aaron grinned, hooking his fingers around Robert’s, conscious he was covered in car oil, and the suit Robert was wearing was probably worth more than the car he’d been fixing. “But if you ever say thank you to me again when I say I love you, I will break your legs.”

Robert raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the kind of threat I’m supposed to be making?”

Aaron smirked, shrugging slightly. “Maybe I’m the better gang boss out of the two of us, then.”


	7. s e v e n

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> robert was later. robert had never been late, up until that night. he was an hour and fifteen minutes late. aaron, he’d given him the fifteen minutes, thinking he could just be a little late, that he’d had a few things to be finishing up, before he came home, but as the time on aaron’s phone ticked over to robert being a full half an hour late, he started panicking.

Aaron had been living with Robert for three months, when it happens. In fairness to Robert, he’d managed to keep a sense of normality, in their lives - he’d come in late, sure, but considering he owned a bar, it made sense. He still always came home exactly when he said he’d be home - Aaron didn’t question it, what Robert did, whether he was working in the bar, or if he was working his less legitimate business.

He never questioned it because Robert was always on time.

Aaron was used to the familiar noise of Robert’s key clicking in the lock, the muffled noise of Robert unsetting the alarm, his boyfriend always putting his hand over the speaker to dull the tinny voice, as though Aaron wasn’t always to be found waiting up.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision, really - Aaron had just done it the first night he’d properly been alone in the apartment, after he’d moved in, and he hadn’t stopped ever since.

Robert had never been late, up until that night.

He was an hour and fifteen minutes late. Aaron, he’d given him the fifteen minutes, thinking he could just be a little late, that he’d had a few things to be finishing up, before he came home, but as the time on Aaron’s phone ticked over to Robert being a full half an hour late, he started panicking.

Aaron wasn’t stupid. He knew there was risks, in Robert’s line of work - everything Robert did carried a risk, but he’d never been late.

Late - late was bad. Late was Aaron sitting up all night, alone, worrying. Late was wondering if he was going to have to start ringing around hospitals, or police stations, desperately searching for his boyfriend.

Every tiny noise made Aaron hope, hope it was Robert clicking his key in the lock, and starting about his late night routine, a routine that always ended with him kissing Aaron softly, urging his boyfriend off the couch, and into bed.

Three hours turned to four, and then five, and then the sun started to stream through the glass windows of the living room, late enough that Aaron was thumbing the screen of his phone, a list of local hospital numbers on screen.

And then the door went.

Robert looked exhausted, as he tumbled through the door. He had a gear-bag slung over one shoulder, a black one Aaron didn’t recognise, and his face was black with grime, Robert wincing as he unset the alarm.

“You’re still up?” Robert sounded surprised as he looked up, noticing Aaron sitting on the couch. He eased the gear-bag onto the floor, holding his side.

“You’re late.”

“I know, the job got out of hand,” Robert looked apologetic.

“2am.” Aaron said shortly. “You promised me, 2am.”

  
“Things changed, Aaron.”

“Then why didn’t you message me?” Aaron demanded, standing up, feeling his anger bubble over as he stared down his boyfriend. “It’s not like you aren’t glued to your phone twenty-four seven anyway.”

Robert’s brow furrowed. “It was hardly a situation where I could hit pause to text my boyfriend and tell him I was going to be late home, was it?”

“You made me a promise.”

“You sound like a child, Aaron,” Robert rolled his eyes, padding toward the kitchen, rooting in the medicine cupboard for something. “I’m here, what else matters?”

“You’re hurt,” Aaron said, following Robert into the kitchen. “Don’t try and hide it from me, Robert - you’re hurt, something happened.”

“Something always happens.”

“Now is not the time for you to be fake deep, Robert,” Aaron snarked, nodding toward one of the kitchen stools. “Sit down.”

“I can take care of myself,” Robert tried to protest, easing himself into a sitting position as he spoke, clearly not up for an argument.

Aaron scanned Robert’s face carefully, brushing a thumb across Robert’s cheekbone, fingers tracing every familiar inch of his boyfriend’s face. Eyes, nose - mouth. It was as if Aaron was going through a mental checklist, making sure Robert was all in one piece.

“Arms up,” Aaron said quietly, Robert cooperating, letting Aaron ease his t-shirt off, revealing a chest covered in bruises, marks blossoming across Robert’s pale skin. “I thought you paid other people to do the fighting.”

Robert cracked a wry smile. “Sometimes I like to be a hands on boss,” he joked, keeping his right arm raised over his head as Aaron’s gentle fingers skimmed over his ribs, Aaron dabbing at the cuts with disinfectant, the kind of thing he hadn’t done at six am in a long, long time.

“Aaron.”

Aaron looked up, Robert’s voice pleading. “You promised me you’d never be late,” he said quietly, turning his back for a second to root in the freezer, grabbing one of the ice-packs they had, the ones that were usually reserved for the evenings after Aaron’s training sessions, Aaron’s sore muscles being tended to by his devoted boyfriend.

“I promised you I’d always try not to be late,” Robert corrected, his voice soft. “I can’t guarantee you I won’t ever be late, Aaron. My job - it’s not 9-5, it’s not anything like that.”

“I know that.”

Robert caught Aaron’s wrist, pulling his back between his legs, keeping him close. “Aaron, I need you to listen to me.”

Aaron wanted to throw an absolute strop, if he was honest.

“I can’t sit here, and promise you I will never be late,” Robert repeated, an earnest expression on his face. “But I will always come home, Aaron. I can promise you the much. But I can’t have you be this mad at me every single time.”

“How am I supposed to not be mad about you coming home hurt?”

Robert looked as if he was thinking for a second, grinning as some sort of bright idea popped into his head. “I have an idea,” he said, holding tightly to Aaron’s waist, his grip on Aaron’s waist a familiar comfort.

Aaron pulled a face. “That’s never a good thing.”

“Shut up for a second, and hear me out,” Robert said, pinching the skin of Aaron’s hip. “A checklist.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow. “You what?”

“A checklist!” Robert repeated, looking utterly delighted with himself. “You can make a checklist, for when I come in late. If I tick everything off on your checklist, you can’t be mad at me for being late, because I’ll be back safe.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, Robert,” Aaron shook his head, unsure of how to actually respond to Robert’s ridiculous suggestion. So much of his life with Robert was blissful normality, and then there was moments like this, when he realised it was as far from normal as he could get.

“I just hate it when you’re mad at me,” Robert tried to put on a pout, holding tightly to Aaron’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Aaron echoed, pressing a kiss to Robert’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. “That’s why I worry.”

Robert gave him a cheeky grin. “Do I pass your checklist, then?”

“Who says I’ve thought of one that quickly?” Aaron replied, fingers skimming Robert’s ribs again. “And, no, you didn’t - you’re hurt,” he pressed a little harder than necessary, making Robert wince. “You don’t pass any checklist if you’re hurt.”

“I still came home, though,” Robert tiled his chin upward, giving Aaron an expectant look.

“Five hours late,” Aaron said pointedly, kissing the corner of Robert’s mouth. “I’m like, fifty percent mad at you.”

Robert grinned, easing himself out of the chair. “Fifty percent is better than a hundred percent.”

“Shut up,” Aaron rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed - and fifty percent mad still means you’re sleeping on the couch, so don’t even try it, Sugden.”

“I might have a broken rib!” Robert protested.

Aaron shrugged. “It’s a good thing you’ve got an expensive couch then, isn’t it?”


End file.
